


(Not So) Pretty in Punk'd

by fanatic_by_definition



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, apologetic patrick, forgiving pete
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-04-26 21:20:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5020918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanatic_by_definition/pseuds/fanatic_by_definition
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>"Don't." The curtain is ripped back with violent force, revealing Pete's puffy, tear-streaked face and bloodshot eyes. He glares at Patrick with a deep disdain that the singer hasn't seen from him in years. "Don't say you're fucking sorry. I expect this kind of shit from Marcus, from Dirty, but—but not from my fucking band. Especially not from you."</em>
</p><p>###</p><p>Set after the old episode of Punk'd where the band basically tricks Pete into thinking he's ruined Christmas for a bunch of kids whose families survived Hurricane Katrina. He laughed it off in the end, of course, but it looked like he was really hurt by it. I hope something like this happened afterwards...not the sad Pete, of course, but the comforting part....</p>
            </blockquote>





	(Not So) Pretty in Punk'd

**Author's Note:**

> random something that popped into my head. started writing it on my phone this morning, just finished it now. unbeta'ed. hope you like it!!

The walk back to the buses is awkward, to say the least. Pete keeps his head down and his hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie like he's trying to retreat into himself and hide from everything and everyone. The smile he'd plastered on for the MTV cameras is long gone by now, replaced by a blank, empty expression that only manifests on Pete’s face when something is very, very wrong in his head. Patrick studies him closely, concerned—they'd told him eventually that it was just a prank; no one was _actually_ hurt or disappointed, Christmas wasn’t _actually_ ruined, and the kids were all in on it. Surely Pete understands that it was a joke? All in good fun?

But the bassist remains silent as the four of them divide up and pile onto the two tour buses in the parking lot. Patrick ends up with Pete, and he watches as Pete rips the black beanie off his head, flings it onto the couch in the lounge, and stalks away to the bunks without a backwards glance. Patrick stands there, staring after him, wondering if he should follow.

It had been clear that Pete felt terrible during the "accident" with the train lever and "Mrs. Claus". His face had contorted into that tight, forced smile he always gets when he's trying to talk himself down from an anxiety attack or a general freak-out. Patrick had immediately felt bad when he'd noticed that, but the cameras were trained on him and the rest of the band, expecting them to appear as confused as Pete was. Pete had looked more than confused, though—he'd looked like he wanted to scream and cry and apologize till he was blue in the face before crawling away and hiding forever in the deepest, darkest hole he could find. The way he'd looked at those kids...One thing Pete Wentz has always hated is letting people down, especially children. The hitch in his voice when he'd tried to explain the situation to the underprivileged munchkins had been barely noticeable, but it cut through Patrick like a knife.

Patrick had expected Pete to be confused and apologetic, maybe even scared. What he hadn't expected was the tears that had formed in those beautiful brown eyes, the tremors in those usually strong hands, the unregulated panic on that handsome face.

Long story short, Patrick's wondering if he should apologize to his best friend (and boyfriend of three months) for making him feel like absolute shit. Pete's more sensitive than people seem to realize--maybe this whole Punk'd thing hadn’t been the fantastic idea it has seemed to be when they’d first gotten the offer from MTV.

After a good two minutes of intense mental deliberation, the singer sighs and shuffles towards the bunks, trepidation fluttering in his chest. His concern for his best friend outweighs his worry, however, so he keeps going until he's standing beside the closed curtain of Pete's tiny bunk.

The only sounds coming from behind that curtain are shuddering breathing and the occasional quiet sniffle—trademarks of a classic Wentzian breakdown. Guilt floods into Patrick's bones immediately.

"Pete?" he intones softly. "Pete, are you okay?"

No response. The breathing and sniffling grind to a halt, leaving nothing but cold silence in the stagnant air. Patrick bites his lip—this might be worse than he'd anticipated.

"Listen, I—I know you're upset about the whole prank thing," he says. "We—I guess I didn't realize how seriously you'd take it. We were just...it was supposed to be a funny thing, y'know? Scary at first, but then something to laugh at later. I'm...I'm really so—”

"Don't." The curtain is ripped back with violent force, revealing Pete's puffy, tear-streaked face and bloodshot eyes. He glares at Patrick with a deep disdain that the singer hasn't seen from him in years. "Don't say you're fucking sorry. I expect this kind of shit from Marcus, from Dirty, but—but not from my fucking _band_. Especially not from _you."_

There's betrayal and anger and confusion swirling in Pete's eyes, on his face, and Patrick feels fucking awful. "Pete..." He crouches down and tries to reach out for the older man, but Pete recoils from his hand.

"That whole time, I kept looking to you for some ounce of—of comfort, reassurance, _something,"_ Pete spits. "But you wouldn't even glance at me. And then...you laughed." A quiet, hoarse sob breaks free from his throat; Patrick's heart breaks. "You f-fucking _laughed_ at me after. I just don't—how— _why_ —?"

"Pete." Patrick climbs into the tiny bunk and squeezes himself next to the bassist, facing him. He stares at the tears streaming down Pete's flushed cheeks and curses himself for even considering saying yes to that dumb TV show. He gently rests a hand on the side of Pete's face, brushing some tears away with his thumb. "I...I'm _so_ sorry," he murmurs. "I had no idea...I can't believe we did this to you. Can't believe _I_ let this happen. I'm so fucking sorry, Pete, I really am." He prays that Pete believes him—this is the kind of mishap that could ruin their relationship; Patrick is suddenly terrified at that possibility.

Pete studies Patrick's expression for several long seconds, perhaps searching for signs of dishonesty. After a moment, he asks softly, "Are there any cameras in here still?"

Patrick shakes his head, brushing a few strands of raven hair away from Pete's eyes. "No," he promises. "They’re all gone. 'S just you and me."

Pete relaxes then, closing his eyes and sniffling. He grabs Patrick by the arms and tugs him closer so he can bury his face in Patrick's soft, warm chest. Patrick sighs in relief and immediately wraps him in a tight embrace, cooing soothing words into his hair. He still feels like the douchiest douche to ever walk the earth, but right now he's just gonna focus on comforting Pete like he should have when the cameras were watching.

"I-I thought I killed someone," Pete sobs pathetically against Patrick's shirt. He's shaking like he sometimes does when he takes too many pills. "Th-Thought someone was actually hurt, a-and all those kids—they were just _looking_ at me, and they were so _sad_ , I couldn't—"

"Sssh," Patrick whispers, holding him tighter and pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. It’s times like these—times when Pete shows the true extent of his caring nature, the immense size of his heart—that make Patrick really fall in love with him all over again. "It's over, none of it was real, everyone's okay, you're okay, sssh..."

They stay like that for several minutes, Pete weeping quietly against Patrick’s chest and Patrick rubbing slow, firm circles on his back to calm him down. This isn’t the first time they’ve been in this position, and Patrick knows it’s far from the last. Still, the guilt he feels for stressing his boyfriend out like this is making his stomach clench uncomfortably. He buries his face in Pete’s mussed hair and squeezes his eyes shut, clinging to the trembling body in his arms. “I’m so sorry, babe,” he breathes. “I’m so, so, _so_ sorry. Fuck, I was a dick—all three of us were. I hope eventually…you can forgive us. Forgive _me._ We really— _I_ should’ve known better than to let that stupid show do this to you.”

Pete is quiet for several more seconds, sniffling and struggling to get his breathing back under control. Once he can speak somewhat clearly again, he whispers, “It’s okay, ‘Trick.”

Patrick shakes his head. “It really kind of isn’t.”

“N-No, it—really, it’s okay.” Pete squirms in Patrick’s arms until he can pull back to meet the younger man’s eyes. He grins a little, wiping at his nose with the sleeve of his hoodie. “It was a prank; no one actually got hurt. I’m just—y’know how I overreact to shit sometimes.”

“You’re _not_ overreacting,” Patrick insists, reaching up to dry Pete’s tears again. “You have anxiety, Pete; this—we should’ve anticipated this. It was dumb of us to do that to you.”

“It’s fine, I promise.” The bassist loops his arms loosely around Patrick’s neck and knocks their foreheads together, inhaling deeply. “Just…don’t do it again, okay?”

Patrick nods solemnly. “Never, I promise.” He leans in a couple inches to kiss Pete sweetly on the lips, running his hands up and down Pete’s sides.

Pete hums against his mouth and tugs him a little closer before pulling back. “Thank you.” He smiles for real this time, bright and wide and Pete-like, and waggles his eyebrows. “I think you owe me a little something extra in the way of an apology, though.”

“Oh, really?” Patrick smirks at him and leans in again, brushing teasing kisses down the side of Pete’s neck. He digs his fingers into Pete’s hips, reveling in the soft gasp it causes. “We got a two-hour bus ride ahead of us. There’s plenty of time for you to, um…punish me.”

“Shit.” Pete tugs Patrick’s head up by his hair and kisses him deep and filthy, tears forgotten. “I fucking love you, y’know that?”

Patrick’s chest fills with warmth and he tugs Pete closer, feeling like the luckiest sonuvabitch on the planet. “Yeah, I know.”

###


End file.
